


The Longest Date

by agentverbivore (verbivore8642)



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluff without Plot, Laughter During Sex, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, POV Jemma Simmons, Picnics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Content, Summer Solstice, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-27
Updated: 2016-07-27
Packaged: 2018-07-27 01:19:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7597807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/verbivore8642/pseuds/agentverbivore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>To celebrate the longest day of the year, Simmons and Fitz take a day off from SHIELD to hike, picnic, and watch the sun rise. Although he knows her itinerary by heart, he doesn't expect it when she goes off book, taking their picnic in a rather unanticipated direction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Longest Date

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EclecticMuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/gifts).



> written for eclecticmuses, brain twin, saltmate, darling friend of mine. I hope this makes you smile on your birthday - or at the very snort-laugh a little. may you have a stupendous year, and that meeting AD at D*C makes all your dreams come true!
> 
> a special thanks to [blake-wyatt](http://blake-wyatt.tumblr.com), who posted [the prompt](http://agentverbivore.tumblr.com/post/148066787423/blake-wyatt-reasons-why-someone-should-write-a) that inspired this fic!
> 
> I gave eclecticmuses the choice of four colors (as signifiers of prompts I already had in mind) for the PWP I was writing for her birthday: orange, black, blue, and green. She chose green. :-)
> 
>  
> 
> (Written down to the wire and unedited, so many apologies for errors. I will inevitably come back and tinker with it once I'm running on more sleep.)

The day began in darkness, goosebumps shivering up on Jemma’s skin when air crept beneath the covers. Upon waking, she felt as if she was being drawn through muddy depths, sluggishly pulled to wakefulness from a sound, dreamless sleep.

“Hey,” whispered her favorite person in this or any world, “time to get up.” Fitz pressed a soft, scratchy kiss to her cheek, and she smiled before she even opened her eyes. “Happy solstice day.”

A low laugh escaped her lips, and she stretched one arm above their heads as she turned towards him. “Happy day indeed, with you awake before me. Is the world about to end, too?”

“I’m excited,” he murmured, ignoring her dig as he wrapped her up in his arms and tugged her against his chest. “And we’ve been planning it for a week, I’m not about to miss it now.”

She could feel his half-hard cock through their pajamas, a mischievous smile flashing across her lips. “I could probably think of a few ways to distract you.”

“Bet you could,” he said, voice rumbling between their chests. The promise of their darkened bedroom hovered between them, only their breathing audible in the pre-dawn air. “But c’mon, we’ve got stuff to do. We’ll get to that later.” 

With that, Fitz dropped a kiss to her forehead and disentangled their limbs so he could roll out of bed. Jemma sighed, wincing as he flicked on the bedside lamp.

“You’re confident about that.”

“Jemma,” he tossed back wryly, gathering up his towel, toothbrush, and razor, “we have _plans_. And I’m not bloody well forgetting that part.”

Another smile split her face, and, suddenly energized, she scooted out of bed after him. Ever since she’d learned that this year’s June 21st would harken both a strawberry moon and the summer solstice on the same day, she’d been counting down the hours until she and Fitz could celebrate the rare astronomical overlap together. 

Within relatively short order, they prepared themselves for the day, grabbed their bags, and slid into the unmarked SHIELD sedan they’d packed with supplies the night before. The Playground itself was eerily silent as they waited for the garage door to trundle open, emphasizing the abnormally early hour at which they’d risen. But they had at least a two-hour drive before they reached their destination, and she was determined to get there before dawn broke.

Since she was used to rising early, Jemma took the morning drive, settling her skirt more comfortably around her legs as she turned onto the highway.

“You look nice.”

She flicked her eyes to the right, where Fitz was staring appraisingly at her from his seat, and she lifted her chin a scotch higher. Although dresses were not normally her oeuvre, the day called for special attire – and this soft yellow looked particularly nice with her skin tone. Besides, her best friend-now-boyfriend hadn’t had much occasion to see her wear dresses at all, and she rather liked the idea of him ogling her just a bit. Although they’d been together for well over a month by now, everything about their relationship still felt new, and she was happily basking in the way his attention was drawn to her in all sorts of different ways than before. 

“Thank you,” she replied, reaching over to take his hand and giving it a squeeze. From someone who was so hard to impress, “nice” was high praise indeed. In truth, though, getting to feel his eyes on her all day would be the reward she sought.

“C’mon,” he said after a few seconds, loosening his hand’s grip on hers and nudging it back towards the wheel, “you’ve gotta drive.”

“ _Ugh_ , Fitz,” she muttered, rolling her eyes as much as she dared while they were otherwise occupied. “There’s no one else on the highway, and it’s straight ahead.”

There was a pause while he grumbled something indistinct about being careful, and then he brought her hand up to feather kisses along her skin. His mouth trailed from one knuckle to the next, stubble scratching lightly against the back of her hand, and a light shiver ran through her. Things like this were exactly why she’d been looking forward to getting away from the Playground, and today would be an excellent test run for their trip to the Seychelles next month. As much as she genuinely adored their working relationship and always had, Jemma wanted the chance to do couple-y things – the little gestures that made her heart swell, being allowed to gaze at each other as long as they wanted, not having to censor themselves for professional company. Fitz had been getting very good at making gestures small and subtle enough that no one else noticed, but she longed for the freedom that time away from SHIELD would afford them. 

His mouth traveled from the back of her hand to her wrist, and when his tongue flicked briefly against the sensitive skin there she inhaled. “Okay,” she said, giving his fingers one last squeeze and returning her hand to the wheel. “Now that _is_ too distracting.”

“Sorry,” he said, but she could hear the infuriating and endearing smugness in his voice. After a few seconds, he reached over to rest his hand on her leg, pointedly keeping it close enough to her knee that she knew he wasn’t about to try anything.

The drive was long but peaceful, music humming through the speakers until they got within the hills of Shenandoah National Park and the radio signal began to stutter in and out. Glancing at the clock, Jemma started when she realized that it was already half past five: If she didn’t find someplace to pull over soon, they would miss the sunrise.

After another couple of minutes, she spotted an overlook point with space for parked cars, and gave the wheel a sharp turn into the empty lot, startling Fitz awake.

“Come on, Fitz,” she said, throwing the car into park and hopping out her door. “It’s almost time!”

Jemma ducked into the backseat to grab a sweater, already feeling the need to ward off dew-laden dawn air, and then promptly scrambled onto the hood of the car. Behind her, she could hear him yawn as he shuffled through their supplies. 

“Hey,” he whispered, catching her attention, “take these?” Fitz held out the two thermoses they’d packed, and she leaned down to give him a peck on the cheek as she did as he asked.

“Thank you.” 

He gave her a bleary smile in return, rubbing at one eye and going back to fumpher around for something else. Hugging the mugs of hot tea to her chest, Jemma kept her eyes trained on the gradually lightening sky. (The self-heating thermoses were made from some of Fitz’s old Academy designs, something he’d cobbled together one semester when they’d had two early classes back-to-back.) 

Dawn would forever be her favorite time of day; since her return from the planet of death, darkness, and despair, she hadn’t missed a single one. Even if she wasn’t able to see the sunrise, because she was, perhaps, being held prisoner, or simply wasn’t near one of the few windows on the base, she was awake for each sunrise. Simply knowing that the sun had risen anew loosened something in her chest, and so she always awakened before the sun emerged. To his credit, since they’d begun regularly sharing a bed, Fitz had never complained, generally sleeping through her early morning routine until his own alarm blared. (Perhaps even more to his credit, sometimes he awoke with her and indulged in a few choice activities that decidedly shoved all thoughts of sunlight, present or absent, out of her head entirely.) 

The sound of one of their food bags thumping onto the metal hood was followed by the sound of Fitz attempting to clamber up, slipping off, swearing, and then heaving himself up at last. Jemma, prudently, chose not to look at any of the above, instead only letting her lips quirk up at the corners. Noting the ways in which he’d stayed exactly same as the sixteen-year-old boy she’d met back at the Academy always sent something familiar and warm spreading through her chest. 

“This thing’s a lot higher than it looks,” he groused, and she hummed in agreement, handing him his thermos. 

As a soft pink stained the haze in the valley below, she leaned over to give him a soft kiss. “Good morning,” she whispered, brushing their noses together and then allowing their lips to meet again.

“Morning, Jemma,” Fitz murmured against her lips, voice laced with amusement.

Moving the food behind them, she scooted over so that their hips were pressed together, and he automatically shifted so he could wrap his arm around her shoulders. Although their breakfast awaited them, she wanted to be close to her boyfriend more than she wanted food at just that moment, so she laid her head on his shoulder and tightened her fingers around her thermos. The caffeine, unlike the food, couldn’t wait. 

Early though it may be, she thought happily to herself as she took that first sip, their date was starting out very well.

While they cuddled and drank their tea – and Fitz ate, because he could only wait so long before his stomach began to complain loudly – light spread across the sky above and field below, stretching into [a pastel rainbow](http://www.space.com/33233-full-strawberry-moon-summer-solstice-reader-photos-gallery.html). At long last, Jemma caught a glimpse of the bright orange moon peeking above the cloud layer, and she pointed it out to Fitz. 

“There,” she said quietly, not wanting to disturb the morning’s peace, “do you see it?” Fitz followed her gaze and made an excited noise of assent, turning himself so he was angled better to see it. “The strawberry moon!” 

He tilted his head. “Bit more of a satsuma, isn’t it?” 

A loud laugh burst out of her throat, and she gave him a small push, her empty thermos toppling onto the ground at the movement. “Fitz!” 

“We should’ve brought a telescope,” he mused, leaning back on his hands. “Bet it looks redder through a lens.”

“We would’ve had to go buy one,” she said, repeating the denouement of a conversation they’d had three days prior. “And if we were going to buy one, it would have had to be the best one, and the best kinds of telescopes for this event wouldn’t fit in the car with all of our other things. I think it’s lovely without one anyway.”

Besides, she thought to herself as she pressed in closer to Fitz, there would be plenty of high-resolution pictures on the internet for her to examine at length when they got home.

“Did you know,” she began, “that the strawberry moon hasn’t coincided with the summer solstice since nineteen sixty-seven?”

He chuckled, tipping his head back to drink the last drops of his now-cold tea. “I didn’t until last week, when you told me that the first time.”

“Did you know,” she continued, meeting his gaze with a teasing smile, “that the summer of that year is also known as ‘the Summer of Love’?”

Raising an eyebrow, Fitz studied her expression for a few moments before responding. “Are you trying to tell me that you wanna become a hippie?” Jemma giggled, dropping her head to his shoulder. “‘Cause I’m not sure I support the lack of hygiene. Though the no-bras thing wouldn’t be half bad.”

“Oh, you’re so transparent,” she retorted. “What about the sexual liberation? Would that be okay with you, too?”

He cleared his throat and turned to clean up their breakfast detritus. “Depends. Who’s invited?”

“Just you.” When he looked up to meet her eyes, she arched one eyebrow, watching as his pupils dilated ever so slightly. 

“I’ll let you know tomorrow,” he said at last, sliding half-gracefully off the hood. “I’ve got plans with my girlfriend tonight.” Hopping around to her side of the car, he reached up to help her jump off.

The small hop pressed Jemma right up against Fitz, and she tilted her head to look up at him through her eyelashes. “Are you sure you don’t want to just take me, right here, right now?” 

Three cars sped in quick succession on the road behind them, and she couldn’t keep a straight face, letting out a noise that was a cross between a snort and a giggle. As she laughed against his chest, he let out a sound of fake disappointment.

“Terrible,” he sighed, crouching to pick up her fallen thermos. “Teasing a man like that. Gonna get my hopes up.” 

He strode away to toss their things into the back of the car, and Jemma let a wicked grin flit across her face. “And for a good reason,” she muttered to herself, switching to a bright smile when he slammed the door shut and turned back towards her.

“Alright, I’ll take the wheel for a bit.” 

“Are you sure you’re awake enough?” she teased, stepping forward and dropping the keys into his hand.

His eyes darted towards her lips as she got closer, and before she knew it Fitz had wrapped her in his arms and slotted their mouths together. Jemma hummed against him, crossing her wrists behind his neck and allowing him to press her up against the passenger door. 

“Yup,” he murmured against her lips, diving in again for another kiss, “I’m awake.” Then he slid away from her all too quickly, leaving her leaning against the car with a rather dazed expression on her face.

Patting her hair, Jemma exhaled and turned to go towards the other side of the car. Apparently keeping to the plan was going to be harder than she’d anticipated. 

While Fitz drove to whatever mystery location he’d selected for their woods-bound walk, she prepared for the rest of the day by slathering herself in oil-free sunblock and mosquito repellant, and slipped on her old, trusty red Cons rather than the sandals she’d grabbed at the Playground. He gave her a wry grin when they got out of the car at the parking lot, and she shifted her slingback bag so it sat more securely on her shoulder. 

“What? They’re better for walking.”

Shaking his head, he leaned over to give her a quick peck against her temple. “No, just haven’t seen you wear those in a while.”

Jemma shrugged, bemusedly allowing him to steer her away from a nearby sign as he grabbed a printed brochure. “My boots didn’t really seem to go with our itinerary.” 

“Who could forget the itinerary,” he deadpanned, twitching appropriately away as she poked him in retaliation. As he resettled his own pack on his shoulder, he peered at the glossy map. “C’mon, this way.” 

Once he’d lead her to a nearby dirt path, Fitz planted himself next to a miniature wooden sign and made a silly little flourish with one hand. “Ta-da!”

Burned onto the trail marker were the words: _Simmons Gap   --   1.6 mi_

Jemma made something between a giggle and a coo, tilting her head as she met his excited gaze. “Is this why you made me promise to let you choose where we went?” 

He gave her an enthusiastic nod. “Found it straightaway, knew it’d be perfect.”

“I love it,” she said, stretching up to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“Want a picture?” When she stepped back, he slid his phone out of his pocket. 

Jemma laughed, letting her bag slip to the ground as she crouched by the wooden post. “Says the man who hates pictures.”

“Only of me,” he argued, snapping a few quick shots as she made a silly face and pointed at the sign. “Like ‘em of you.”

She just shook her head at that, taking his proffered hand and tugging herself back onto her feet. “Oh, _Fitz_.” Slinging her bag back over her shoulder, she gave him a quick kiss. 

He just shrugged in response, but she caught the way his eyes lit up as he turned towards the trail.

While they walked, Fitz put sunscreen on any exposed skin and Jemma took out her notebook. As a young girl, she and her parents used to go for little hikes in the Sheffield countryside, and a big part of her plans for the day involved recreating that sort of feeling. For the next couple of hours, they ambled down the Simmons Gap trail, making frequent stops for Jemma to take flora samples and mark plant life seen on her typed checklist. At one point, Fitz made a few ungainly leaps towards a nearby, almost-hidden tree and came away with a small, hard little apple. (Judging by the face he made at the first bite, it clearly tasted terrible, but he was unwilling to surrender his victory.)

“It’s too bad,” Jemma said at one point as she squinted down at a small pile of bear scat. “I wish we could have invited Daisy here. I mean, not today, but... one day.”

“What,” Fitz mumbled, one arm curved protectively over his mouth and nose, “so we can all stand around and stare at bear shit?” 

She let out a noise of annoyance and pushed herself back onto her feet. “Oh, for god’s sake, it doesn’t even smell.”

“You’re noseblind to weird things.”

“Explains why I can stand to be around you,” she shot back, sticking her tongue out briefly at his faux-pout. “I just wanted to make sure it looked normal, that’s all – seemed a bit flaky at first, which could mean illness,” she explained. “If there’s a sick bear wandering around, I’d want to tell the rangers!” 

There were a few moments of silence, and he scooted quickly up behind her. “So, sick crap or normal crap?”

“Normal,” she said, elbowing him lightly. “And I meant _Sky_ line Drive – the main road? She’d like that.” 

He made a quick little nod. “Yeah, she would. When she gets back, we’ll take her.”

Jemma sighed, shielding her eyes so she could peer up at the silhouette of a bird wheeling over the top of the trees. “I’m not sure she’s coming back this time.”

“She will,” he replied automatically, ducking underneath a low branch. “She always does.”

“Well, I joined Hydra when I thought I’d lost you, so...” she tried joking, trailing off even before she’d finished. Her nose wrinkled, eyes dropping to the dusty rail. The joke really wasn’t that funny. “I was kidding.”

“I know,” he said, giving her a thin smile. 

“I just meant....” She sighed, slowing her gait to the point where she basically wasn’t moving forward anymore. “It’s hard being around the same old things when something so... unimaginable happens. I left because I wanted to help you get better, Fitz, but if you’d... if....” A shaky breath broke her concentration, and Fitz slid his hand into her unoccupied one. “I don’t think I could have stayed with SHIELD. If you hadn’t woken up.” Sniffling a little, Jemma dropped his hand as she continued down the path. “I don’t blame her for going.” 

Silence fell between them for a long while, Fitz’s brows creased as he turned her words over in his head.

“She’ll come back,” he repeated at last, more slowly but just as determined. “That’s what Skye does.”

“Daisy,” Jemma reminded him with a smile, and he gave his head a quick shake.

“Yeah, right, sorry.” He huffed out a laugh. “Been long enough now, you’d think that wouldn’t happen anymore.”

After traipsing back up to the ranger station, and taking selfies alongside a rather picturesque, moss-covered stone wall, much to Fitz’s vociferous protest, they set about identifying a good place to have their picnic. The park rangers – eager to help, seeing as the park didn’t have as many visitors in the middle of the week – marked a field on their map that was out of the way of most hikers and had a good view of the horizon. Jemma took a few minutes to freshen up in the tiny hut that was the rangers’ station’s W.C., ridding herself of whatever sunscreen she hadn’t already sweated off, and then they took off in their car, bickering about the finer points of the rangers’ directions.

A couple of missed turns, a quick turnaround, and one grumpy Fitz later, they finally located the field, which was blissfully out of the way of all roads and paths. Jemma insisted on going first and choosing the spot, to make sure that he didn’t land them in a huge patch of poison ivy or something equally unpleasant. (He griped a little about her lack of faith, but ultimately only tugged his rucksack higher on his shoulders and followed dutifully behind. To be fair, it _had_ been a long time since their previous meal; she wouldn’t blame him for being a bit impatient.) Finally, she found a little line of trees that curved around a flatter part of the field, effectively hiding them from unexpected wanderers, and together they unfolded their blue-check picnic blanket in the shade. 

The rest of the afternoon was spent with them eating, laughing, and simply enjoying each other’s company. Since the plan was to experience as much of the day’s seventeen hours of sunlight as possible, eventually they both settled in to do quieter activities, with Jemma sorting through her little collection of flora specimen just as she would have as a young girl, and Fitz leaning his chin on her shoulder and listening as she explained her findings.

At one point much later, when she had her head pillowed on his stomach, she turned around when he didn’t respond to a question she’d asked him. His eyes were fixed on the sky, brain clearly a million miles away from their conversation.

“Fitz?” He didn’t reply, and she turned her whole body so she was looking up at him. “ _Fitz_.” 

He blinked down at her, gaze coming into focus. “Hm? Oh, I’m – sorry, Jemma, sorry.”

“Where’d you go?”

“Nowhere,” he said automatically, reaching down to rub one hand along her arm. When she raised one eyebrow pointedly, though, he rolled his eyes. “Yeah, alright, I was thinking about some improvements I’ve got in mind for Coulson’s arm. Radcliffe keeps suggesting things, and most of ‘em are garbage, but –”

“They gave you ideas?” 

He smiled bashfully down at her. “Yeah. Sorry, I promised no work today –”

Jemma burst into disbelieving laughter, pressing her face into the cloth of his shirt to try to dull the sound. “Oh, _Fitz_ , for God’s sake – we love our work.”

“I know, but it’s your special day –”

“And it’s special because we’re together, not because....” She waved her hand vaguely above them. “Our lives are magically different away from the base, or something. You _know_ I love our work. You should talk about it if you want to.” Letting out another small laugh, she grinned. “And I promise I won’t talk about bear feces at all for the rest of the day.”

The face he made in response – half gagging, half horrified – was absolutely worth the potty humor. To her pleasure, Fitz spent the following half an hour working through his thoughts out loud with her just as he always had. Everything felt just as it always had between them, except for the fact that their hands remained entwined the whole time, and at one point he pulled her up for a sweet, lingering kiss.

“Couldn’t resist,” he murmured, sweeping hair out of her face as she leaned over him. 

Jemma hummed as she leaned down again to fit their mouths together, just barely managing not to let one hand slip against the picnic blanket. Not long before, she’d polished off the last of their bottle of wine, and she was feeling adored and happy and sun-kissed.

As the sun approached the tops of the distant trees, blue sky bleached yellow at the end of the day, she pushed herself up to sit properly. “Do you think this will hold our record for longest-ever date?” 

Fitz squinted up at the sky, tangling their fingers together again even though she’d moved. “Well, depends on how you’d define date, I s’pose –”

“Oh, _Fitz_ –” 

“‘Cause if you count Bucharest,” he continued, talking over her, “from before we got on the plane – when we were in my room – until after we... y’know. Then I think that’s actually longer.”

She wrinkled her nose, trying to remember the number of hours. “Would you really count _all_ of that as a date? Everything with Hive, and Daisy, and, _eugh_ , Radcliffe?”

Shrugging, he clasped her hands in both of his, apparently studying the way they fit together. “So it wasn’t the most _perfect_ date....”

Chuckling, she shook her head. “Luckily, you made up for everything else,” she whispered, warmth spreading through her chest at the way he gazed up at her, all full of adoration and mirth.

“ _Twice_ ,” he added with a smirk, and she rolled her eyes. 

“That’s just because I told you what to do.”

“You’re good at that,” he volleyed right back, meeting her halfway between for a slow-burning kiss.

Stretching out along his side, Jemma slid one hand along his neck up to the back of his head, bringing him up and over her. If he was going to tease her for being bossy, she’d move things in the direction she’d been mulling over for the past half an hour. The solstice itself had peaked a few minutes prior, and her thoughts had since wandered to putting her surprise part of their day into action. Before she could get comfortable beneath him, however, Fitz broke away, nuzzling at her cheek and then curling chastely around her. 

“Soon,” he murmured, feathering his lips along her neck, and she began to feel genuinely miffed at his apparently endless amount of self-control. This was a man who’d practically thrown her atop a lab table the first time they’d kissed, and today he was the patron saint of “let’s wait until we’re at the hotel.” (Logically, Jemma knew that “thrown” might be a smidge of an exaggeration, but if that’s how she chose to remember it, who would blame her?) 

Perhaps aided slightly by the wine’s liquid courage (and the fact that she hadn’t been snacking all day after lunch, as Fitz had been), Jemma inelegantly pushed against her boyfriend and rearranged them so he was on his back. She swung her left leg over him, straddling his hips. 

“What –?”

“I think we should have sex,” she announced, trying to sound sultry but probably coming off just bossy.

This, however, seemed to work well for Fitz, who just gaped up at her for a long time rather than respond. “You’re joking....”

“Nope,” she said, and then let out a little noise as she remembered that she’d forgotten something very important. Scrambling around onto her bum, she quickly removed her knickers, let them fall to the picnic blanket, and then crawled back to reclaim her position over his hips. 

Fitz swallowed a few times, his cheeks a good shade more pink than they had been a few seconds ago. “Jemma, we can’t just... here! What if –”

“Even the rangers said this was a secluded area,” she said, trying to be patient. “And it’s a Tuesday. It’s so quiet, we’ll hear if anyone’s coming, _and_ that’s precisely why I wore a dress.”

His lips parted. “ _That’s_ why you wore the dress...?!”

“Yes. Because that way we can’t be arrested for public indecency – the skirt will cover anything offensive.”

Fitz pinched his nose between his forefingers and his thumb. “Jemma....”

Letting out a little huff, Jemma realized that logic was not working, so she switched to her newest tactic when it came to persuading Fitz of anything not work-related. So far, it had a one hundred percent success rate. 

“Come on, Fitz,” she murmured, bending forward so that her nose was just barely brushing his, hair falling along one side of her face. “Don’t you want me?”

“I – c’mon, Jemma,” he croaked, hands hovering over her arms as she began to slide down his body. “You know I do, I just don’t... don’t....”

“Hmm?” His eyes were glued to her hands as she kneeled between his legs, reaching quickly out to unbuckle his belt and undo his trouser button. If he was truly against the idea of having sex at this moment, he could have physically stopped her at any time; yet his hands never quite decided what to do, as he used one to prop himself up on an elbow and kept the other held halfheartedly towards her.

“Think this is...” he tried to get out, stopping the second that she tugged away the sides of his jeans. Inhaling, he swallowed again, and she suspected that he was trying to remember what he’d been arguing.

His cock was already hardening inside his boxers, she could feel him beneath the fabric, and without ado she pushed his underwear aside and lowered her mouth. Sucking in just the head of his cock, she laved her tongue against the underneath, intentionally teasing him in a way that was sure to drive him to distraction. His hips jerked up against her, one of his hands fisting into the picnic blanket. 

“Oh fucking Christ,” he groaned, meeting her eyes when she flicked hers back up, his own dark with shock and arousal. Arching one eyebrow, she held his gaze as she lowered her mouth further over his now-hard shaft and hummed as she pulled back up, sliding off of him with a wet pop. He let out a rough grunt, biting hard into his bottom lip as he nearly shook with the effort of staying still and not rocking up in search of her mouth.

“You were saying?” 

“Condoms!” He was panting heavily, his cock shining dully from her saliva as it stood erect between them. “We –” 

“They’re in that bag,” she interrupted, pointing vaguely to her right. “So?” 

Fitz muttered another swear, pushing himself up onto both elbows. “C’mere,” he muttered roughly, reaching down to tug her forward so that he could capture her mouth in a searing, desperate kiss. “Are you sure?” 

“Fitz,” she said on a low laugh, “I’m the one who propositioned _you_.” Brushing their noses together, she leaned in for another heated kiss. “I just... thought it would be fun. Different.” 

“Different’s right,” he said, hissing as her hand found his erection and gave him a few, teasing pumps. “Oh, God, _yes_ , alright.” 

“Yes?” She couldn’t help the excitement in her voice; a small part of her had worried this might be a bit too _out there_ for their fledgling relationship.

“Yes _please_ ,” Fitz groaned against her mouth, parting her lips so that he could do this _thing_ with his tongue that always made tingles of arousal dance through her whole body.

Grinning, Jemma pulled away to stretch over him for the tote bag with the condoms. Once she’d grabbed the handle, though, she halted as she felt Fitz’s mouth press a wet, sucking kiss at the top of her breast, just above the hem of her dress. A funny little noise of surprise burst out of her, and one of his hands curled up along her ribs, holding her in this awkward position above him. Nuzzling the fabric down, he gently sucked her nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth against it just enough to have her trembling above him. 

All too soon, he leaned back, covering her breast once again with her bra and dress. “Since you’re not taking it off,” he murmured, ghosting his lips up over her cheek as she tried to meet his mouth with her own.

Jemma laughed breathlessly, panting a little too much for such brief contact. “You’re _such_ a boob man.”

“Boobs are the best thing in the world,” he replied blithely, smiling when she laughed again. “Especially yours.” 

“What a gentleman,” she deadpanned, reaching into the tote at last to dig around for the condoms. 

“Jemma,” he said, the sudden bashful quality to his voice catching her attention. “Would you... what you were doing... would you do that again? Just a little?” 

A mischievous grin split her face, and she turned back towards him. He wouldn’t quite meet her gaze, and so she stretched up to hover directly over him again, forcing him to make eye contact. “When I was doing what, exactly?”

As much as Fitz seemed to have a certain amount of confidence when they were in bed together, he didn’t tend to like using words to tell her what he wanted. Her goal was to get him to be as open and upfront about what he wanted as she was trying to be. 

Darting his tongue out to wet his lips, he inhaled before speaking, voice low enough that it sent shivers down her spine. “Sucking me off.”

“And what was that question again?” 

Fitz stared up at her, expression a mix of bravado, arousal, and shyness that made something in her chest clench. “Would you suck me off, Jemma?” 

“Only if you thoroughly shag me afterwards,” she teased in response, clambering back down so that she was leaning over his erect cock. 

“Deal,” he croaked just as she took him in hand and gave him one, firm lick along the underside of his shaft. “Oh _yes_ ,” he groaned, breath catching when she swirled her tongue over the head. “Christ, _Jemma_.” 

Her favorite part of going down on Fitz was the way he tried so intently not to show how much her ministrations affected him. But she could see it in the way he followed her every move, in the way he bit his bottom lip so hard that it flushed white; she could feel it in the constant stuttering of his hips, in the tensing of his muscles as he wound up tight beneath her. 

Eventually, though, she couldn’t wait any longer, hearing him groan her name again tipping her over the edge of needing to slake some of her own desire. So, sucking firmly on his cock one last time, she pulled away and made a grab for the condoms. She slid one onto him and met his gaze as she straddled his hips, avidly noting the tension in the clench of his jaw and the deep pull of his eyebrows. Instead of lowering herself immediately, though, she reached under her skirt to press his rigid shaft against her clit, her eyes fluttering at even that brief relief.

Fitz swore, hands coming to grasp hard onto her upper thighs as she rubbed his cock against herself and whimpered. “C’mon, Jemma,” he rasped out, hips twitching at her unintentional teasing. “C’mon, c’mon....”

Blinking her eyes open to meet his, she lined them up with her hand and then sunk sharply down onto him, stifling a cry of pleasure at the movement. Fitz let out a low grunt, bucking up into her as she ground down against him. 

“Oh God,” she breathed, dropping her head back and turning her face to the brightly lit sky. “Oh _yes_ , Fitz!” 

“C’mere,” he muttered, tugging on her hand so that she was bent over him, hands pressed to the picnic blanket beneath. “Gorgeous,” he said, just before capturing her lips with his own, both of them moaning as she rose and sunk onto him again. 

Moving her hips in firm, deep thrusts, Jemma reveled in the fullness of Fitz inside her, of that perfect stretch that sent arousal soaring through her at every stroke. As much as she loved everything about their sex life, being pressed together like this during intercourse was her favorite part. The intimacy of moving together as one being with one thought and one purpose always made her breath catch, each time with Fitz somehow still feeling unlike any other.

Their noses brushed together as she undulated against him, her mouth curving into an adoring smile. When he caught her eyes, he gave her a reflexive smile in return, one hand reaching up to bring their lips together for messy, open-mouth kisses. She couldn’t hold that position for long though, her muscles beginning to protest, and she pushed up so she was sitting over him. Her next thrust had gravity working in her favor, stroking his cock against something deep inside her that made her gasp in pleasure. Reaching out, Jemma tangled one hand with his and propped her other against his chest, moaning breathily as the added support helped her hit that same, delicious angle at each and every rock of her hips.

Fitz bit out a swear, and before she knew what was happening he’d bundled her against his chest, flipped them over on the picnic blanket, and begun shagging her in earnest. The noise of protest she made switched nearly instantly to one of pleasure as his cock stroked against her G-spot, and she had to bite down on his clothed shoulder to muffle the sound. She was dimly aware of what sounded like their picnic supplies being upended nearby, but instead of reaching out to prevent potential food and drink catastrophe, Jemma just reached down to sink the fingers of both hands into his arse, his muscles flexing as he thrust wildly into her. His trousers had helpfully slipped down during the change in position, her skirt fanning around them as she spread her legs further apart and rocked back up to match his rhythm.

A breathless giggle escaped her throat, although it quickly morphed into another whimper of pleasure.

“Did you just laugh?” Much to her disappointment, Fitz slowed enough that he could peer down at her, confusion written across his brow. 

“No,” she tried to assure him, but another traitorous laugh bubbled out of her almost immediately. “I’m sorry,” she giggled, wrapping one arm up so she could smooth her hand along his neck. “But _you’re_ the one – who was so worried – about having sex –” she cut herself off on a shuddery moan, back arching as his next thrust pressed directly against her clit. “Outside,” she gasped, determined to explain herself, “and now your bare bum’s just out there, _ah_ , for everyone to see. If there was anyone – _oooh_ – else here.”

Freezing, cock buried deep inside her, Fitz’s inner turmoil was nearly tangible. “For the record,” she breathed, tightening around him and earning herself a low whine and a shiver, “I don’t mind at all.” She nipped at his earlobe and rocked up against him again. “I like when you lose control.” 

With his face hidden in her neck, she could see the sky’s colors beginning to deepen, the solstice giving way to a warm, bright summer twilight. Her eyes wandered back to her boyfriend, carding her fingers through his sweaty, sand-colored curls.

Just as she was about to attempt to goad him back into that delicious, nearly punishing pace, Fitz made a frustrated, disappointed groan, and then pulled out of her, scrambling back onto his knees. 

“What –?!”

“C’mere,” he said, breathing heavily as he reached out to pull her up after him. “Just a....” He trailed off, hiking his trousers higher up on his thighs and then digging his knees into the blanket. “Like this?” 

Jemma didn’t answer straight away, thrown for a loop by the unassuming eroticism of the picture her best friend made at that moment. Kneeling on the picnic blanket, clothes a rumpled, sweaty mess and cock standing at rigid attention between them, Fitz stared at her with unabashed desire. His hands reached out for her and he was breathing heavily, the blue of his eyes made even more striking as they reflected the cloudless sky. The odd thought that he was everything she’d ever wanted flitted through her head. 

Then she blinked, her senses returning in a rush, and she grabbed for his hand, allowing him to help position her (and avoid the uncomfortable metal of his jeans’ button and zipper) as she straddled his lap. The second they were lined up, Jemma tilted her hips to take him in as far as she could in this position, both of them sighing shakily as they were joined once more. It took them a few seconds to sync up their movements, but at last they found just the right rhythm, with him thrusting up as she rocked down. This was how they were at their best, each moving and loving and holding each other equally, on the same level, hearts pounding to the same beat. Each stroke sent zings of feeling through Jemma’s whole body, and she bit down on the inside of her cheek to try to keep herself quiet. Secluded they may be, but much more noise than they were already making would eventually draw attention.

One of Fitz’s hands grasped her bum through her dress, helping to increase the strength and speed of their thrusts, and his other came up to cup her chin, trying to steady her enough that he could slide their lips together. She pressed her hands to his jaw, only barely managing to do more than simply pant against him, forcing her eyes to stay open and fixed on his. Abruptly, Jemma remembered that the whole point of this, the reason she’d wanted to make love to Fitz outdoors on the summer solstice, was so that she could watch the sun while surrounded by the man who had come to symbolize the same light, renewal, hope. And yet here she was, unable to move her gaze from his. A breathless smile broke across her face and she pressed their foreheads together, willing the love she felt for him to be translated through her actions. 

Shifting beneath her, he adjusted the angle so he could buck upwards faster, and something about that minute change sent Jemma careening towards her orgasm. The surprise had her letting out his name in a soft gasp, and she couldn’t even think to quiet herself. Foreshocks began to shiver through her veins, arcing out from where he worked inside her, her vision blurring as all she could think to do was keep moving, keep holding on, until all of a sudden her climax rushed through her. Heat washed from her head to the tips of her toes, her thighs squeezing hard around his hips, and she couldn’t quite stifle her hoarse cry of his name.

Fitz groaned, buried his face in her neck, and bucked frantically up into her, holding onto her a little too hard as he rushed towards his own orgasm. His cock sliding roughly against her already sensitized nerves sent more waves of pleasure coursing through her, and she whimpered, digging her fingernails into his scalp. With a last, sharp stutter up into her, Fitz came undone, muffling a shout against her neck. Something about being able to feel the tension leeching out of his entire body always made Jemma feel particularly self-satisfied – or would, if she weren’t too busy being overwhelmed by the aftereffects of her own climax. She melted forward against him, knowing that he was likely too exhausted to hold her up but unable to come up with an alternative in her current state.

A satisfied hum rumbled from Fitz’s chest to hers, and he lifted his head. Although he looked relaxed in that special way that only came from really energetic, excellent sex, his expression also radiated affection. He looked at her like that all the time now, but it still took her breath away every time. Giving her a half-smile, he swept loose hair out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, adjusting his hold around her bum so that she didn’t slip away before she was ready. 

“I’m in love with you,” Jemma whispered, keeping her eyes trained on his and smiling from ear to ear. It was probably the most awkward time for her to say something so momentous, with him still inside her and both of them sweaty and exhausted. But the last time she’d spoken about love with him she’d thought it over too much and still hadn’t been ready, and now....

Now, they’d spent nearly sixteen hours in the sunlight, giving her all the brightness and warmth that she needed, and still the thing that had brought her the most happiness all day was him. The realization had been a long time coming, but this time waiting didn’t feel like an option at all. Unlike most things in her life, she hadn’t hesitated and she didn’t regret being so impulsive for even a second. For most couples, two months would be very soon for such a declaration; for them, it was far past due.

Instead of holding out for a reply, Jemma tucked her head against his neck and let out a little sigh of contentment. “Happy solstice day, Fitz.”

After another few seconds, she decided that she was too hot and too tired to hold that position anymore, and disentangled herself from her boyfriend. A comfortable silence descended upon them for the next minute or so, as they both cleaned themselves up and Jemma pulled her knickers back on. The picnic blanket had gotten twisted nearly half around, most of their dishes overturned, and she set about packing things away, chuckling to herself about how, exactly, everything had become so hilariously messy. In thinking about it, she might have a bruise or two on her back tomorrow from stones or sticks beneath the blanket; she wouldn’t blame Fitz for changing positions on her twice. 

“You know, right?” Fitz’s voice was atypically urgent, and Jemma turned from her cooler bag to look at him. Kneeling still at the edge of the blanket, he was twisting the end of his untucked shirt around his fingers, a distinct sort of worry etched across his brow. “How I feel about you?”

Tutting quietly, she shuffled over so that she was next to him, sitting knee-to-knee. “I suppose I do,” she replied with a soft smile, smoothing her thumb over his cheekbone. “But it would be nice to hear it, I think. When you’re ready. Not now. Okay? When you’re ready.”

Fitz gave her a solemn nod, brain clearly whirring. “But I am, y’know. In love with you."  

“Oh,” she breathed, uncharacteristic happy tears threatening at the corners of her eyes. “I told you, not until you’re –”

“I’m ready,” he interrupted, giving his head a brief shake. “Been ready. Just... haven’t.”

“Okay.” After another few seconds of grinning stupidly at him, Jemma leaned forward to press their lips gently together and then nuzzle briefly at him. “Today’s been wonderful, Fitz. Thank you.”

“It’s been a real hardship,” he deadpanned, a wide smile slightly undermining his sarcasm. “Got to spend the whole day off work with my favorite person, and then was seduced for, Christ, really fantastic sex. Really, really difficult life –”

“Oh, stop,” she laughed, swatting affectionately at his arm. “I mean it. _Thank you_ , for arranging this, for coming with me, all of it.”

“Day’s not over yet,” he quipped, leaning around her to grab an empty bag. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook for the rest of your itinerary just ‘cause you made unplanned changes.”

“Absolutely not, Doctor Fitz,” she joked back, a shiver running through her at the thought of spending an entire night in a hotel together. They left for the Seychelles in exactly ten days (not that she was counting), so tonight would be more practice for spending an entire fortnight on holiday together. Jemma couldn’t wait. 

“D’you wanna sit on the car to watch the honey moon? Or stay here?”

“Here, I think,” she said, combing her fingers through her hair to try to get it to look somewhat less sex-mussed than it surely did at the moment. Fitz continued to clean up, tossing trash in one bag and packing away containers and cups in an empty cooler, and she allowed herself a few seconds just to watch him. 

Although the sun had been wonderful, and the strawberry moon spectacular, Jemma had mostly just wanted a good excuse to spend the whole day outside with Fitz. And what an excellent day it had been.


End file.
